Do remember that the salt water boundary in
Sooke Basin is the silver bridge. Above is deemed freshwater, but below, salt
water regs prevail – and do check them before fishing. The most common places
to fish are Whiffen Spit and Billings Spit. A flood tide can be particularly
good at Billings. Gear guys using red/pink spinners and wool flies catch a good
number of fish that they can take home. And it is exciting to watch the schools
come closer and closer until people start hitting them.

Fly guys can be welcomed into the line
provided you perform back and out casting, eliminating false casting and
fouling everyone’s lines. Last year, when I wandered down to see how the gear
guys were doing, I was instructed to go back to my car and get my fly rod. They
were accommodating and I did the same. You lay the line on the water, lift the
line off and back and cast on the forward stroke. In this way, looking only for
a 50 foot cast, everyone is in synch for a good fish.

There are several other places where shore
angling on salt water beaches will yield fish. These include, Cherry point,
earlier for pinks, now for coho and chum. The same can be said for Cowichan
Bay, just off the parking lot. Up Island there are many beaches with fish,
Nanaimo before Millstream River, Nile Creek, the Big and Little Q beaches, and
so on, all the way to Campbell River where river angling also produces ten
minutes from the spit. The same can be said for a half dozen river mouths north
to Port Hardy.

Get out and fish. There is nothing more
instructive than actually doing the deed. Think of it as educating yourself
over the years. More fish come with more time spent understanding your fishery,
the structure of the beach or river, and the behaviour of the fish. If you are
not doing that well, but someone beside you is, congratulate them and ask a few
questions. People who are catching fish obviously know something that those not
catching them don’t.

When you get home, keep a log of what
worked, even if it wasn’t your catch. If you have a record, for instance, a
silver Blue Fox No. 5 spinner with a red body, you will know something for next
and succeeding years. If you are fishing rivers, the Stamp and Nitinat both
offer up big chinook for those who don’t have boats to catch them in salt
water.

I went out last week to see whether I could
bring home a coho of less than 10 pounds for dinner. Anything bigger than that
becomes a problem for fileting, and divvying up fresh fish, then delivering it
to family and neighbours. I’ll deal with coho more thoroughly in coming weeks,
but the gist is that because they have far more curiosity than the other four
species, you put flash in front of their faces.

Typically spinners are far and away the
best lure for coho. And as the season progresses there is a progression in
colour patterns fished. Red is an
earlier colour and pink a bit later. So I Palomared a red Blue Fox, No 5 silver
blade and tossed it into a place I have caught coho on many occasions.

Five minutes later a large mouth tugged
against the lure and the fight ensued. When it was 70 yards downstream and my
limber Rapala rod was some stressed, the fish left the water – a thirty pound
spring. Sometime later the doe lay gasping in my hands, and I relieved her of
the hook and subterfuge. I tailed her into the current for breath and
serpentine release. It is very uncommon
to land a chinook on a spinner, although less so on spoons – the Gibbs
Ironhead, Kit-A-mat, Illusion, etc. are ones that will do the deed – and far
more success can be gained from a yarn fly below a float and horizontal
presentation at nose level for a passive bite.

But as the day progressed, I neither saw
nor touched a coho – evidence that they just weren’t in the system yet. But I
fished a half dozen spots where past records show many coho have come to my
lures. In each of these the pattern repeated: have one bit from a very large
fish, and then release a chinook. Of all the fish I caught, the lightest was 17
pounds, all chinook. So I went home fishless because, wait for it, all the fish
were too big. A problem that virtually never happens.

And a tale: while I was standing at a pool
watching big fish shadow the depths, a guy told me he had been pulled off the rock
by a big fish he caught the day before. When he finally landed it, it was so
large they had a Swiss tourist put his head in the mouth. He assured me he
could fish in the closed pool, implying he was aboriginal and thus had status
rights. I don’t know about you, but I see more blonde haired, blue-eyed
aboriginals in salmon season than the entire rest of the year combined.

Finally, during the early coho time, the
Gun Club run on the Stamp, up to the Bucket, can be a glorious day under the
sun. Lucky indeed, it is to stumble home with a 15 pound coho, while perfecting
your suntan. The Stamp is best for new coho in September.

Monday, 21 September 2015

It is the third week in September and saltwater
trolling time for coho. Check retention regulations (link below) for your area
and get out there. In Victoria/Sooke waters, now that pink and sockeye are
through, most coho fishing will be found in the offshore tide lines of Juan de
Fuca Strait.

The wanton bite that happens when three
species are targeting the same feed is over, and the remainder is Puget Sound
and local stocks, largely on their own. In the distant past we fished the top 30
feet regardless of bottom depth, but in the past decade it’s best to think as
deep as 100 feet and adjust until you find the fish. Scan your depth sounder
for scratchy schools of bait and fish.

Fish by throttle, not speed over ground
as measured by your GPS. When you add tidal push to speed over ground you can
be fishing either too fast or too slow. Instead, increase your throttle speed
to 800- to 1000-rpm which results in your fishing faster than water speed. Ignore
your GPS speed.

Coho are the most excitable species of
salmon and will snap after something interesting at much higher speed. Because
they prefer higher speed that is the prime consideration. But higher speed is
also an advantage in that it allows you to fish more territory in the same
amount of time, thus increasing your chances of finding fish.

Tide lines are your best bet for several
reasons. Tide lines are spots where two different plumes of water moving in
opposite directions and at different speeds run into one another. They are evidenced
by dark, or even light lines and all the kelp weed and flotsam pushed into the
line is held there in the middle of the two lines. Tide lines are vertical
‘structure’ that extend down into the water because different currents exist
under the water surface too; and any on the surface, have to flow somewhere
after hitting one another and they can’t go up, so they go sideways or down.

A second reason is that plankton that
can’t swim faster than the tide gets swept into a tide line and held there as
long as it lasts. Ditto for bait fish that feed on them and also can’t swim
faster than the tide. The coho are keeping up with lunch and thus there, on the
moving side of the line, unless they are still staging, as does happen in Juan
de Fuca. With all the recent rain we have had, this is the cue, the taste of
water, for coho to stop staging and move on.

Another reason to fish tidelines is that
they give you a defined place to fish, rather than moseying all over the place
when you don’t find tidelines. This becomes self evident when you are out on a
calm day and there seems to be an infinity of water, but ‘nare’ a drop of fish.
Tide lines are one of the big three in fishing: being in the right place at the
right time using the right thing.

Tidelines give you the right place, so
stick with them. Fish back and forth across them if the moving side is not
producing. You will have to be checking line for eel grass and dodging kelp
which can be a major headache. But with your release clips set up properly, most
weed will not get past them to the flasher or lure. Use one five feet above two
stops under which the clip is attached, and then one stop below so the line
cannot migrate to the ball (this seldom happens and the more frequent issue is
the clip migrating up and moving the stops even higher, hence the reason for
two stops above the clip).

Using the right thing is your choice of
tackle. It used to be that red was the best colour, for example, that is why
the red Krippled K was the best lure. These days there are multiple colours and
multiple tackle that catches coho. The Madi, Lemon Lime, and Purple Onion, have
to be added to the Betsy and Super Betsy, particularly the ones that are
intended to give off an electric charge from electrolysis. Plaid will work or
the good old fashioned red Hotspot.

Leaders are longer, usually 34 to 40
inches – as speed has a relation with leader length. The faster the speed, the
longer the leader that will work. As for terminal tackle, spoons, hootchies and
squirts are your usual choices. We don’t fish with plugs much anymore, which I
think is related to having to debarb them. A Siwash hook used to be the best,
with its long sharp point for penetration, but the least useful without its
barb. Take the hook in a pair of pliers from point side to shank side and bend
it 20 degrees to kirb it.

A 232 red and gold Tomic plug used to be
a standard and I have found that old gear still works, if you are searching for
something, er, new. In hootchies and squirts, favour red, pink, white, and
clear combinations, Bubble Gum being one and the matching Yamashitas will also
work. Mint Tulip and Irish Mist are good squirts – for ones that are not a
pink/red combinations.

And these days the most interesting new
thing in tackle are the slim spoons that have taken over: Coho Killers, Sitkas,
and others. The plain silver, half silver and half brass and blue/ green
combos, as much as 42 inches behind a flasher. It seldom pays to use bait
because it is the most easily ruined lure and requires being lifted at least
every 20 minutes, so you are sure you are towing something a fish wants to
bite.

But the most important thing is being
there at the right time. Before a high tide and after a low are the fishy
hours. I am sure you can figure out how to get out on the water. Tell your wife/partner
you are bringing home dinner. Just be there.

Sunday, 13 September 2015

Some fishing memories are peak
experiences and will stay with you as long as your memory lasts. One summer
steelhead, canyon river has offered up several of mine. A day in March when the
river was too strong to be crossed, yet had to be crossed, four times – upstream
– before I dropped a fly in a cut rock seam not ten feet long. And out of it a
summer in the air that is the beauty of the invisible made visible.

Blue green water in a granite canyon all
alone. My next fly in the same slit of water brought another summer to my fly. And
then a third cast and third summer steelhead in the cool of winter – a fish
that could have been in freshwater since the previous May. Several miracles in
a few minutes, I having sweated upstream, hauling my body up a rock bank, rod
thrown high in the bush, and hands grasping a dozen ferns each so I would not
fall back out of the forest into the river and be swept away.

Another day, I crossed above a water
fall in the same section of the river, and edged onto a rock face to look down.
The rock face, slick with winter rain, bore a small dead animal. It was
crouched down into death, and like a cat had sunk onto its forelegs and back,
almost as if sleeping, and then died there anonymously. The spot was so
difficult no scavenger, crow, or carrion eater had made it there to eat. The
skin and fur were unrecognizable, perhaps an otter or beaver, I don’t know. But
I moved the carcass aside and picked out what looked like a femur and have it
today on my mantelpiece. It is the rituals we make of life that give our
experiences meaning. Why it chose that place to die will always be a mystery.

The rock face was slick with rain and years
of fir needles. Almost too slick to keep from sliding off and down into a pool 25
feet deep. And then another cliff on another day. I had looked closely at the
topographical maps, and taken several times to find the right logging spur into
a clear cut with its jumble of crossed stumps, Jimson weed, and fern.

I descended a hundred vertical feet to the
bottom of the cut and then looked down the even steeper slope. It bent down
before me and out of sight. At the time, I did not know that when a slope
disappears, that means it is a canyon wall and vertical. Having looked down
into the first growth cedar before, I had brought a bright red, high quality
climbing rope, never thinking it might not be long enough.

I was so scared, I mapped out five separate
legs from top to edge, and told myself I would stop at the end of each one, to
decide whether I felt it was safe enough to take the next leg. The second last
had a log so large I could straddle and sit on it while leaning out over the
edge. Another hundred vertical feet, and only from a tree I had to edge down to
in the silence of a canyon and tie my rope. Of course I had not left
instructions of where I was going, just trusted my own good male instincts that
I would get through. The usual.

Holding the line circled around my fist,
rod in the other hand, I slid the wet, grey and white granite rock down to the
river. The rope ended six feet above the gravel and I let go. Orange tailed
coho fry scattered like melting nails. And after a half hour going upstream, I came
to a canyon wall some 100 vertical feet on both sides, leading to a frothy
chute. I would have to swim into it, then around the corner, where I could not
see, to where I might haul my body out. So I said no.

I went back to my rope and jumped up and
down to get enough of the rope in my hand, rod cork crunched between my teeth,
and hand over hand haul my carcass back up to the tree. I hung to the bottom of
the tree, its roots growing into rock like bent fingers, for a good ten
minutes, figuring out how I would get to the top side of the tree, slide the
rope in a circle around the butt, so I could untie the knot and make for that
log that looked far above me.

When I finally made my way up the wet,
slippery rock slope and took hold of the log – it was fifty feet long and
several tons – it moved with my hand. That’s how slippery fir needles on wet
rock are. No soil whatsoever. It took another ten minutes to work up the log
and cross over, all the while knowing it could give way and roll right over me.
It was my great good fortune not to have died, and once back on the top, on the
edge of the clear cut looking down the 300 vertical feet I had just come up, told
myself I would never do anything so stupid again.

But it is one of my peak experiences I return
to it from time to time, Here is another: one of the bridges over this one-person,
canyon river looks down 90 feet to the small summer river, white between rocks
the size of cars. I had bought some black nylon rope that I knotted and let
down the rock face, that, had I fallen I also would have been killed. At the
bottom of the rope, I swung out wide and avoided the vertical drop for a less
deadly route. (Of course, this means that it swung back over the vertical
slope, and thus required a good scary crossing to pick it up on the way back
up).

Down the canyon in the two o-clock sun
of an eighty five degree day were the shadows of 50 summer steelhead, pooled up
in green water, illuminated by the sun. Each side was a vertical rock face. The
canyon was a chute, twenty feet wide and straight up rock. I unfurled my cast back
into the narrow opening and forward to where the fly landed among the fish. Its
small splash shattered the school and they disappeared downstream around the
corner. I left the fly there for several minutes, but they did not come back.

I knew at this spot in the canyon, there
was a water fall 15 feet high several hundred yards downstream, and had fished
up to it before from below, sometimes taking several steelhead in the six foot
wide tailout. The walls were vertical, but hollowed out by millennia of silty
winter flood water and the pool below was a perfect circle.

While inching down the far side, I came
to a point where my left foot had its boot on two inches of rock outcropping. There
was a willow growing out of the rock, and another narrow ledge on the far side.
I reached for the willow in my left hand and had it take my weight. As I began
the turn, I grabbed with my right hand and swung out over the canyon, holding
onto a sapling half an inch thick. My right foot landed on the ledge, and I was
able to bring my left foot under me. That swing is one of the two most
important memories I have from fishing rivers on my own on Vancouver Island for
decades. And that one I was mid-fifties. I will never forget trusting that
willow and swinging my body across the open space.

Round the corner where the steelhead had
retreated, I found them in a shadow on the far side. At that point I lost my
balance and fell down into the river up to my neck. The fish bolted all around
me. There was little current here because the water was deep. So I continued
down, holding the canyon walls with my hands, into a bowl where I listened to
individual drops of water fall out of the forest ten stories above me, and plop
the water in an echoey room of rock.

The walls were wet and slippery, and I
was chest deep in the shadows, hoping I would not go over the edge. When I came
to the lip, it was round, worn, green granite with water over the top only six
inches deep. I was not in danger, looking down at cutthroat trout swum up the
canyon ten kilometres. They wavered in their line and I watched them for a long
time. I will always have these memories. And there are others. I am sure you
have your own.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

Q:
With the recent rain, are any Vancouver Island rivers open for fishing?

A:
The Nitinat River is now open for retention of salmon, specifically 2 chinook,
only one over 77 cm and 2 coho until the end of September. Oct 1 – Oct 14 the
river has a salmon closure. On Oct 15 there is retention for 2 coho and 2 chum
until Dec 31.

Please note that while this is one of
the best opportunities for a shore angler to go home with a 30 pounder, please
fish responsibly. Gear anglers should fish with a dink float setup that has a
leader with a yarn ‘fly’ and weight as the tag end of the mainline. After
casting, the float is allowed to run down stream with its fly at fish mouth
level. When the spring mouths the fly passively, the float goes down, the rod
is truck and, voila, the fish is hooked in the mouth.

It is not sporting to cast a weighted
lure, without a float, across the school and reel in, snagging a fish on most
every cast. That is harassment, and I hope anyone doing so gets a ticket.

Typically the Stamp also allows chinook
retention, and has a larger flow than other Island rivers. I will let you know
when it is opened. Chinook need 10 to 12 inches of water to migrate upstream,
and many smaller streams may still not have had enough rain after our summer of
drought.

Q:
Are there any new coho limits on Van Isle saltwater?

A: As of Sept 11, the coho limit in areas 12, 121 and 123 to 127, West Coast of Van Isle becomes four. Fraser coho have now passed and WCVI are rated at 4 this year. The following weblink gives you the water-specific area closures: http://www.pac.dfo-mpo.gc.ca/fm-gp/rec/index-eng.html

As of Oct 1, in Areas 18 and 19, you may retain two coho, one of which can be unmarked. Separation Point to Chery Point, as of Nov 1, both can be unmarked/marked.

And from Owen Point in Port Renfrew and the rest of Juan de Fuca, Area 20, you may retain four coho, 1 of which may be unmarked.

Q: How many Fraser sockeye have there been?

A: The cumulative total of early, summer and late sockeye, respectively, are: 347,000; 1,333,000; and, 109,000 = 1,789,000. This is very low. The question is how much prespawn mortality has there been. Apparently not much, but I am not aware of Dr. Miller’s viral signature work being done on the fish.

By comparison, the Alaska pink run has exceeded 177 million, with a total for all species (includes sockeye) now at 227 million. While Alaska does ocean ‘ranching’ of pinks, the question is why the difference in numbers, particularly when the Stamp, Port Alberni figure was a healthy 1.8 million sockeye. It may prove to be fish farm lice on fry, but this can’t be suggested plausibly at this point.

Q: What about Fraser pinks?

A: DFO has reduced its pre-season estimate from about 15 million to 6, or poor pink numbers, with 59% of Johnstone Strait fish and 67% of Area 20 fish being Frasers. In other words, there are pinks still showing up in ECVI estuaries, and some Juan de Fuca fish are destined for Puget Sound.

Q: Where are the Fraser sockeye now?

A: The Fraser run has more than 100 subcomponents and sockeye spread out into their natal streams all over the interior of BC. In addition to saltwater seines in Johnstone and Juan de Fuca, there are river counting fences, wheels, hydro-acoustic sites and other quantifying methods, including eyeballing the numbers. There is a considerable amount of work done by DFO to figure out returns, as the following stream by stream counts indicate:

“The sixth upstream escapement report was released by DFO this week [Sept 5]. Sockeye in

the Nahatlatch River are reported to
be in the early stages of spawning.

Sockeye in the Upper Chilliwack
River are at the peak of spawn. The Nadina

River Channel was operational the
evening of August 14th; 18,267 sockeye have

been counted into the channel to
date. Fish in the channel are reported
to be

primarily holding and in good
condition. The counters at Gates Creek
and the

have been counted into the channel
with an additional 8,964 sockeye counted

into the creek upstream of the
channel to date. Sockeye in the channel
are in

the early stages of spawning. The
counting fence on Scotch Creek was

operational on August 9th; 3,498
sockeye have passed through the fence to date.

Most sockeye observed are reported
to be in good condition, but some have

lesions. Visual surveys of Early Summer-run streams
that are tributary to the

North and South Thompson Rivers
began on August 10th. Sockeye have now
been

observed in the Lower Adams, Anstey,
Eagle, Lower Momich, and Seymour Rivers as

well as Cayenne Creek. Sockeye in the Upper Barriere River are
reported to be

nearing peak of spawning. The first aerial and ground surveys of the
Bowron

River were conducted on September
2nd. Sockeye are reported to be nearing
the

start of peak spawning
activity. The Chilko River
hydroacoustic site was

operational on August 8th. Sockeye numbers continue to steadily increase
with

very few observations of pre-spawn
mortality to date. Carcass recovery
efforts

began on September 1st. Most sockeye appear to be in good
condition. The

Quesnel River hydroacoustic site was
operational August 13th. Sockeye

migration into the system has
remained steady but overall migration levels are

relatively low. Visual surveys of the Quesnel system began on
August 27th.

Sockeye have only been observed in
the Horsefly River thus far, and fish there

are reported to be either holding or
in early stages of spawning. The
Stellako

River hydroacoustic site was
operational August 22nd. Sockeye
continue to be

in the early stages of migration
into the river. Visual surveys of
Summer-run

sockeye streams in the North
Thompson drainage began Aug 11th. Sockeye in the

Raft River continue to be reported
to be in good condition and nearing the peak

of spawn. A visual survey of the Bridge River was
conducted September 2nd.

Sockeye are reported to be near the
peak of spawn. The Birkenhead

hydroacoustic site became
operational August 26th. Sockeye
migration past the

site is still in the early stages.
The counting fence at Sweltzer Creek (Cultus

sockeye) was operational as of July
20th; 240 sockeye have passed through the

fence to date and 25 sockeye have
been retained for broodstock.”

The Cultus number is promising,
given that in one recent year there was only one fish, and another where
samples proved positive for piscine rheovirus.

A: One last thing: I sent in two unmarked chinook heads from the Oak Bay Flats in June.
While they had no Coded Wire Tags, the June CWT fish from Juan de Fuca are
from, with percentages: Georgia Strait – 3%; WCVI - 3%; Lower Fraser – 17%;
Upper Fraser – 27%; Puget Sound - 20%; Lower Columbia – 20%; and Upper Columbia
– 10%. In other words salmon show up in odd places.

A: One more last thing: The 13 pound, three year old, male chinook I took on
the Oak Bay Flats last week, bit on a Spatterback Coho Killer on a Gibbs Lemon
Lime flasher at 110 feet. The Spatterback is a combination blue/green spatter
on a slim spoon resembling Flats baitfish, which are needlefish. The same lure
and Flasher did the deed for Lance Foreman in Port Renfrew last week, also on
springs, most 2 and 3 year old fish.

About Me

I won the national RODERICK HAIG- BROWN AWARD, 2016, for environmental writing, largely for this blog (www.fishfarmnews.blogspot.com) that has become a global portal for the environmental damage made by Norwegian-style fish farms.
I won the Art Downs Award for 2012 for sustained and outstanding writing on environmental issues, in my case, fish farms.
The award was based on 10 columns on fish farm issues in the Times Colonist newspaper, three public submissions to the Cohen Commission on Fraser sockeye and this blog.
If you want to book me to speak, for a lecture, talk, or panel on fish farm environmental damage, contact me on this blog by leaving a message on a post.